


Gold

by Mithlomi



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithlomi/pseuds/Mithlomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki cannot resist Sif in his colours...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold

**Author's Note:**

> For the Skype crew...

His fingers are tingling over the warm skin of her stomach, stretched taut as she longues back against the furs of the bed, arms above her head, smiling as she bites her bottom lip, hot and content. She chuckles low in the back of her throat. He looks up at her in wonder, smirking himself, pleased with the mess he has made of her, their legs tangled still, sweat cooling on skin. His heart still races in his chest and he watches the rise and fall of her own as she breathes heavily, a rush of smug pride knowing it is all his doing

The feast had been another bore, one which neither had wanted to attend. But she promised to provide some entertainment, and knowing she was nearly as good a trickster as he was, he made his appearance. Of course, as a Prince of the realm he had little choice but he would have found an excuse somewhere if he really didn’t want to go.

He was glad he never though. Not when she appears wearing gold. She hates the contraptions she is forced into for these banquets, but this one sparkles in the bright candle light as she dances (Sif is a terrific dancer, lithe and graceful). It clings to her warrior’s body in all the right ways and matches the exact shade on his own ceremonial armour, the colour of his helm…

But it is the emerald at her throat that gets his attention. He wonders if people notice that it this too is his green, his colour. He has to stand aside and admire, lest people making the connection. Not that she cares, obviously. Her wide eyes find him, even in the shadows, used to his hiding places now and she winks…

He’s gliding across the room before even he knows it and excuses the Lady Sif from her current company for the moment, he requires her assistance and all but marches her out of the room. She, for once, does not protest.

It was messy and clumsy, and hot and rough. Hands groping at skin, lips and teeth claiming flesh, searing kisses. It isn’t long before they find themselves in their current state, warm and sated. A good thing, too; it shall not be long before they are missed…

Sif peeks open an eye and notices the state of his chamber. The contents of his meticulous desk scatter the floor; a chair lies on it’s side; somehow, the books on his shelves have fallen; and Sif’s golden dress lies caught on his helm.

Sif smirks. That ridiculous thing. It has always been a source of playful mockery between them and yet… it transforms him when he puts it on. Makes him stand taller and bolder. Sif will not say it completes him, but it seems to bring him out of himself- for a man who likes to live much of his life in secret, the helm is anything but subtle.

She gets up silently, though he protests with a groan and pads quietly across the floor. It is cold on her bare feet. She bends, and instead of picking up the dress, she throws it aside a moment and takes the horned helm in her hands, turning it over, inspecting it carefully.

He’s sat up now, intriguied and bemused, leaning back against the headboard with a small smile on his lips. He watches her move to the mirror, her ivory skin illumated by patches of moonlight that reflect in the goldern helm as she places it on her head.

It is heavy, but of course it would be. A little too big for her and it slips down to cover her eyes. She hears his chuckle and brings it up so she can see her reflection. She poses, cocking her leg as if inspecting a fine gown to see if it suits her. And it does, he thinks. Brings out the strength in her eyes, but she is rather apt at revealing that on her own…

She notices his gaze and looks at him through the mirror. “A fine piece of craftsmanship…” she remarks as she removes it.

“Yes. You said that before, when you somehow managed to rob me of my knife. I’m afraid I shall have to keep this particular piece…”

“Rob you? And I thought it was a gift…”

He shuffles closer to wear she now sits on the bed, fingers grazing down her spine as he nuzzles her cheek. “It was. Suited for the hands of my lady knight…”

“Your lady?” She raises an eyebrow in play. “So you are claiming me then?”

He pulls away to shoot her a bemused look. “I am not. You did that yourself. With that stunning dress of yours.”

“I have no idea what you mean…”

His fingers move to linger on the emerald at her throat, just teasing her skin and she swallows tightly. His looks up at her through half lidded eyes and he’s close enough to hear her breath catch as he just brushes lightly over the hollow of her throat.

“Yes, you do,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to her jawline, teeth nibbling soft skin.

“Yes. I do.” And she regains her composure for a moment to move, quick as a cat and pin him to the bed. He laughs. “And speaking of which, I believe your helm would be a wonderful addition to my ensemble tonight.”

His hands wander over her hips. “And what shall I wear in it’s place?”

She leans down, pressing herself against him, and Loki knows too well the look in her eyes. She’s picking up all his best tricks- he truly was rubbing off on her, but the influence was mutual. He hoped anyway. He could learn from Sif too, he knew. His eyes close as he feels her lips ghost over the shell of his ear and he whispers…

“I do believe, my love, this necklace would bring out the colour of your eyes…”


End file.
